A Quiet House
by surroundedbystars
Summary: 2004. While Chloe has gone with Max to visit Max's family, William Price considers his mortality. Meanwhile, knowing that her husband is probably stewing in his (temporarily) empty nest, Joyce returns home with a gift. Sometimes you just have to tell someone you love them. (Pure WAFF. Spoilers for Farewell).


**The following is a work of fanfiction based upon Life is Strange and Life is Strange: Before the Storm created by DONTNOD Entertainment and Deck Nine respectfully. No claim of ownership is made. None is to be honoured.**

* * *

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

It's a weird feeling for William Price. Freaky and kinda unsettling, if not downright bizarre. Ten years of parenthood have taught him that quietness means something is wrong. Something is broken and the girls are trying to fix it without him and Joyce noticing noticing; he feels himself instinctively scanning for the sounds of footsteps on the landing, checking the cupboards upstairs for superglue. Or it might mean Chloe has snook out - not that she'd need to. After dealing with his own parents, William Price isn't the kind of guy to be overly strict with his daughter. So far, it seems to have worked; Chloe is a good girl. She has good friends.

 _Friend_ , he corrects himself and drinks from his glass of orange juice.

Chloe has one friend: Max. He and Joyce used to worry if there was anything wrong with that. They'd sit up late at night, watch Conan O'Brien, and wonder if Chloe needed more than one friend. They tried encouraging her to make more friends — what had since been uncomfortably deemed The Stephanie Kowalski Incident — but it never worked; Chloe only seemed to want Max, and William wants his daughter to be happy. They both do.

 _Besides_ , William thinks and takes another drink. _There are worse people out there in the world for Chloe to be stuck with than Max Caulfield, I tell you what._

Personally, William likes a loud house, full of laughter and music and the sounds of cooking and things being fixed and things being made. A loud house means a house that is being lived in; a house that is full of love and isn't lonely. At this moment in time, though, his house is quiet and lonely. Chloe is happy though, of course — a sudden three day trip with her best friend will do that for a kid. And everything, in theory, is great. Joyce has decided to give up smoking and is considering becoming a teacher; the house is just starting to look good; William's own job is finally starting to be enjoyable and Chloe is killing it at school — even to the point that Blackwell is a possibility. Everything, in theory, is great. And yet, William feels uneasy. It's an itch to do something. What, he doesn't know. He just has to do it — whatever the hell 'it' is.

William sighs. _It's. Too. Damned. Quiet._

As the news anchor talks about the presidential race between Bush and John Kerry and how it's only a few months until Election Day, William wonders if he should buy a guitar. Something acoustic, something he can take in the garage and disappear into while Joyce studies — if she ever does decide to go back to school that is — and Chloe is with Max. Maybe even something to embarrass everyone with some day.

He pats his legs in an effort to fill the empty house with the approximation of a drum beat, to fill the quiet space with a simulation of rhythm and music. Anything to kill the quiet.

There's a sound at the door; the turn of keys and then footsteps, light and precise, yet laboured. They're the footsteps of someone who works hard on their feet all day.

 _Joyce_.

'Evening hon,' she says as she makes her way into the living room. 'You okay?'

'Aye aye, m'lady,' William replies, all too aware of how ridiculous he sounds. He leaps off the couch and takes Joyce into his arms and kisses her wildly. 'How was your day?'

'M'lady?' She says, smothered in kisses, clearly taken back. 'Apparently not as good as your day. How did your performance review go?'

'Great. We spent fifteen minutes talking trash and making jokes. Afterwards we went out for lunch. Do you wanna sit down?'

'You have no idea.'

Joyce falls onto the couch. She grabs the remote and changes the channel to Days of Our Lives.

Williams chuckles as Joyce gets comfortable. 'Do you want some coffee, dear?'

'Oh,' she kicks her shoes off. 'Coffee… Dinner…'

'Dancing?'

Her feet aching, Joyce laughs. 'Yeah right.'

'Sorry. You know me, though.'

'That I do, Hippie. You gotta ask.'

'I gotta ask.'

He makes them coffee quickly, humming the lyrics to Ring of Fire. Outside the comfortable, warm house, black clouds have started to creep in between the earth and the bright, orange sunlight. In the distance, it starts to rain and thunder. It won't be too long before Cedar Avenue is drenched too, but that doesn't matter now; they're both home, together, in their wonderful warm house. Joyce beans a weary smile at William as he returns, coffee in hand. As she moves over for him to sit down, Joyce's eyes betray the need for the cigarettes which she's currently abstaining from — a promise she made to her mother. Deep down, she knows she will start up again, but for now she is proud of herself. Chloe is proud of her too, which makes Joyce all the happier. Joyce pulls her legs up and William sits beneath them; it was the way they used to sit when they would read baby name books.

'So did Chloe get off okay?' she says.

'Yeah. I popped by the Caulfields' house after school to check up on her before they headed to the airport. She seemed fine.'

'How was Max? Do you think she knows?'

'She seemed happy. I… I think Ryan and Vanessa are keeping it quiet from her.'

Joyce sighs. 'It is terrible.'

'Yeah.'

'How did Vanessa seem?'

'Frazzled. Barely holding it together. I don't know how she's holding it from Max.'

'It's hard for a person to face losing her father,' Joyce says and takes a sip of William's infamously terrible coffee. 'I really can't blame Vanessa.'

'Me neither, dear. But, I hope that they use this time to make some good memories with Vanessa's dad.' He gives a quiet, powerless, half-hearted smile. 'Memories… I guess that's all we can hope to leave, really.'

'Yeah,' Joyce says, choked up. She knows this isn't William. At least, this isn't the happy William that she's known and loved for the past fifteen years — their William. This is the William facing his own mortality.

She squeezes his hand and smiles at him and they watch the show in a comfortable silence, neither one with the energy to move, or the will to leave this perfect little piece of time. Every so often, William Price will turn away from the television and look at Joyce and smile at her and think: _Thank you for marrying me._

When it's over and the sun has all but set and the night birds come out, Joyce pours them a glass of wine each and then sits back down.

'So, Mr Price,' she says and hands him his wine glass. 'What do you want to do this weekend?'

William grins. 'Well dear, I could think of a couple of things…'

'I mean besides that.'

He chuckles. 'Well, using my excellent powers of deduction, as well as a legion of spies and turncoats I determined that dancing was probably off the table. So, guessing that you would probably want to each something spicy, I thought we might want to get take-out from Raj's tonight.'

Joyce smiles. 'And what did these spies and turncoats tell you about tomorrow, Wild Bill?'

 _Wild Bill_ , he thinks. _No one's called me that since college._

'Tomorrow we head on down towards the beach. Go for a nice, child-free, romantic walk. Then maybe drop by Blockbusters and get a couple of films. There's an open mic night in O'Malleys tomorrow night. Karaoke?'

'Only if you're going first.'

'You always go first,' he says. 'And on Sunday I figured we could sleep in. Why?'

Joyce leans over the side of the couch and reaches for her purse. 'Well, that sounds great, hon. It really does.'

'But?'

'And while I think we can — and should — do all that,' she grins awkwardly, 'today I caught one of the Blackwell kids trying to sell grass in the boys bathroom, and knowing that you would probably be more than a little upset because Chloe isn't -'

'I'm not upset.'

Joyce grins. 'Hon, you're clearly frazzled like a cat in the rain.' She pulls out a potato-chip baggie of weed and holds it out in front of William and flashes that impish smile of hers.

'No, dear,' William says, shaking his head. 'We can't. What kind of example is that for Chloe?'

'Chloe's not here.'

'What if she finds out?'

'How would she?'

He coughs. 'Why didn't you give this to the police?'

'Because Francis Bowers has got enough to worry about without getting the police involved.'

'So you don't mind drugs, you just don't want them at work?'

'Exactly.'

'And you don't mind them at home - '

'Stop changing the subject, Bill. Do you want to smoke this with me for old times sake or should I throw it in the trash?'

He takes a moment to consider his options.

'No,' he decides. 'We're adults now. Parents. We can't. There's just no way we can…'

* * *

William Price takes another drag. Beside him, phone in hand and her own joint resting in the Oregon ashtray, Joyce orders their takeout.

 _Dammit_.

He looks at his wife, the goddamned wonderful woman that she is, and sighs because he knows he'd do anything to make her happy. Even if it meant being happy when he didn't want to be.

 _Dammit_.

He takes another drag.

 _This isn't bad weed, you know._

They spend the night in joyful bliss, dancing to their favourite kinds of music, eating unhealthy food, and making each other feel like the most important person in the universe. They laugh and kiss and make silly calls to friends they haven't talked to in years. Yet, Willian can't shake that emptiness. That yearning to do something. He can't say what it is, or even describe it. When he tells Joyce about it, half-way through their third listen of Bob Marley's Exodus's second side at 1:34am, the closest descriptor that he can use is the need to go stand in the yard and dig for something.

Joyce looks at him as if he's gone insane. 'What?'

He laughs. He doesn't know what it is yet, either.

* * *

In the morning, Joyce wakes up alone and groggy. Her house stinks of weed, and her teeth taste like a bar counter. Outside, a light morning dew has settled on the world. Children laugh and make their way up and down the street on bicycles. Loud cars with louder horns drive loudly in the distance. She hasn't felt this bad since college.

She buries her head into her pillow and reaches out for her husband but finds his side of the bed empty and cold. Still feeling the effects of the night before, she pulls herself up from her pillow and looks around their bedroom, at the clothes strewn about the place like wreckage from an explosion and the empty bottle of vodka left on the floor like a forgotten toy.

 _Bill…?_

Ignoring the headache, Joyce quickly pulls some clothes on and heads to Chloe's room. Then, when she sees it is empty, she looks in the bathroom and heads downstairs.

More of the same. She finds the back door ajar, dirt all over the carpet. A man's footprints. There was a hole in the back yard, too. One of William's barrels on the kitchen table, amongst the trash from last night's take out. Next to it is a small, silver box: Chloe and Max's time capsule.

 _Just what in the name of hell…?_

On the garage door someone had attached a piece of paper with 'Live Recording' written on it in big, bold letters. Joyce recognises the handwriting as belonging to William. Calmer, she tiptoes forward and pushes the garage door open gently.

'…I figured you swashbucklers might not be back to yer loot for some time, so I've given it extra protection from the winds and rain.'

Oh Bill… she thinks to herself. _You sappy bastard._

'I'm sure you're excited to open your time capsule, so I won't go on too long…'

Joyce remembers what William said the night previously and smiles. It all makes sense now.

'Just know that Bloody Bill is bloody proud of you — both of you. Keep those sails trimmed and that anchor scrubbed. And always remember: the real treasure is…'

Some people had a calling in life, Joyce thought. Some people were meant to be great scientists or great artists; some people were meant to be great chefs or great preachers. William was a great father and husband. He was good at one of those — always had been — but he was never at his best unless he was doing both, in some fashion. She supposed that might be a problem some day, when Chloe had gone off to college, but for now she was just happy to see her husband be happy. All Joyce wants is to see her family happy.

Finished, William presses stop on the tape recorder, rewinds the tape and then ejects it. He places the tape down on the table snd stares at it, unsure if he'll actually place it with Chloe and Max's time capsule or not. He's never been afraid of telling people how he feels, especially not Chloe. But this feels different. Harder. For a moment, he thinks it's because he's talking to Max, but that's not it at all. Somehow, he knows they'll hear it after he's gone. He can't picture it, of course — nobody really can — but he has a feeling, and a powerful imagination.

 _How long will it be?_ He wonders. _Days after? Years? Decades?_

There's a knock at the garage door. 'Darlin'?'

William turns to Joyce and smiles. He didn't expect her to be up so early. 'Oh, morning dear. I didn't wake you, did I?'

'I don't think so.' Moving like a school teacher about to punish a delinquent, Joyce pulls a stool and sits down. 'Darling, if you don't mind me asking, why is there dirt on the living room floor?'

He chuckles. 'I ummm… It occurred to me last night. The time capsule that Chloe and Max buried last year. It might not last with, you know, buried like it was.'

'So you dug it up?'

'I was going to rebury it.'

'Ah,' she says. 'And the recording?'

'I don't know. The house just seemed so empty and I was thinking about Vanessa's father and—'

'You wanted to leave a message for Chloe. You wanted to be a dad.'

'Yeah.' He smiles.

'Oh Bill,' she says. 'If you're this bad now, imagine how bad you'll get when Max and Chloe get married and-'

'That's easy.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah, the minute Chloe moves out to go to college we're going to start having sex and not stop until we're dangerously hydrated.'

She laughs. 'Oh yeah?'

'In every room. Repeatedly. Then we'll hydrate and start all over again.'

'Yeah right,' Joyce says. For a long moment they sit there in comfortable silence. She smiles at him, he smiles at her.

'Honey?'

'Yeah?'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Shoot.'

'You heard the tape, right? What I said?'

'To Chloe and Max? Yeah. Most of it'

'Do you think it's weird that I spoke to both of them? Like, I know it's -'

'No,' she says, her voice strained. 'I think that... I think that come whatever may, Max will always know that she was a member of this family. And I think that whatever obstacles they'll face in the future, they'll face them together, and I think it's important that... If for some reason you're not there yourself, that they know that you were always cheering for them. Both of them.' She smiles. 'Because you're a sappy bastard.'

William smiles: Joyce always knows the perfect thing to say. 'That's a dollar for the swear jar.'

Joyce grins. 'Fuck the swear jar, Bill.'

She _always_ knows the perfect thing to say.

'I hope they stay together.'

'I do too. Lord knows it was hard breaking Chloe out of her shell first time. Next time it's going to be near impossible.'

He nodded. 'Dear?'

'Yes darlin'?'

'Sorry I got dirt on the carpet.'

'Don't worry about it, Bill.'

'I was going to tidy before you got up.'

Joyce chuckles and stands up. 'You're still going to tidy it before I get up. I am going back to bed and you are going to tidy this mess up, mister.'

'Yes dear.'

She smiles and kisses her sweet husband on the forehead. 'And when you're done, you are coming back to bed.'

'Yes dear.'

She grins and kisses him again. 'And don't you forget about me, Bloody Bill.'

'Never dear.'

William smiles as Joyce heads back upstairs. Once she's gone, he stands up and gets to work.

He collects the tape and places it, along with the original time capsule and a photograph of him and Chloe, inside the barrel. Then, he reburies it, replacing the earth and grass as best he can, hoping that neither Chloe or Max notices it when they get back on Monday. It doesn't take long to clean up after that. Vacuuming and spraying, mostly. When he is done, William stands there, in the middle of his quiet living room. Birds sing in the distance. The sun is bright. The world feels young again.

The house is quiet. But that's fine. Somehow, William knows now that in years to come, when his home falls silent again and he's not there to fill it, his daughter and the most important person in her life will hear those words - his words - and feel better, for a little while.

And that's all he can hope for, really.

* * *

 **Notes**

This story was inspired by a conversation that I had with someone on Reddit and the discovery of William's weed paraphernalia during a play through of Farewell. There's no actual evidence in the game that William and Joyce ever toked up in the house, or Joyce ever toked up at all, but I just liked the idea that they have a secret wild side that rubbed off on their daughter.

Likewise, the thing with Vanessa's dad was something that wasn't in game, but it served to tie the idea of William and Joyce getting baked and William digging up the time capsule. One of Max's grandfathers is mentioned in Episode 3 of the original game, but it's never described if he's still alive. Personally, I like the idea that his bad news was a false positive, and that he and the family found out some time during this trip and Vanessa and Ryan just never told Max and Chloe about it. After Farewell, I think you can see why I don't trust those two.

I hope you enjoyed my story. Reviews are always appreciated.

Thank you very much for reading.


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